Molly's Lips
by patemalah21
Summary: Ever since Sherlock remarked that they were too small, Molly has obsessed about changing the size of her lips. She will do or try anything short of surgery to make a certain consulting detective change his mind


Ever since Sherlock remarked that they were too small, Molly has obsessed about changing the size of her lips. She will do or try anything short of surgery to make a certain consulting detective change his mind. This story is a birthday fic. for the lovely Lucy36. Caution: Fluff alert! (the story, Lucy, not you!)

_A/N Try Youtube for Nirvana's song 'Molly's Lips' before reading this fic. But don't blame me if it gets stuck in your head and you sing it over and over and over . . ._

**Molly's Lips**

Molly's lips weren't ugly, but they had nothing in common with the bee-stung look of Angelina Jolie. She had never actually worried about the size of her lips until the unfortunate day Sherlock Holmes cruelly mentioned that he thought her mouth was too small. The remark had been made ages ago, but Molly remembered and, as in all things Sherlock, she became slightly obsessive about the need to change herself in an attempt to get his approval.

**One - Adventures in Lipstick**

First she tried different shades of lipstick. She tried darker colors, then lighter ones. Frosted and unusual shades came next. Nothing appeared to catch the attention of the consulting detective. Molly had almost given up hope when she happened to stumble upon a website on makeup techniques to make lips appear larger.

The website assured it's audience that the procedure was foolproof and very easy to learn. Molly quickly made a list of things to be purchased and determined to go shopping right after work.

Later that night, in the comfort of her own bathroom, Molly set out the items on the counter. After covering her lips with foundation makeup (to provide an even base color and to help the lipstick to adhere better), Molly picked up the small pencil like stick of lip liner she had purchased and traced just outside her natural lip line. This was to subtly increase the size and to correct any uneven shape in her lips. Next, she applied a lipstick whose color was just slightly darker than her natural lip shade. She carefully blended it into the drawn outline. As a finishing touch, she lightly applied a shiny almost white color to the fullest part of her lips to create the illusion of depth and shine. She viewed the results carefully and burst into laughter. Her lips looked like something from _Zombie Bimbos Attack London._ Washing everything off, she tried again. Molly was nothing if not determined.

Several days and many attempts later, she was finally ready to be seen in public with her new and improved lips. She nervously arrived at work and was somewhat relieved when no one except her very uncritical and forgiving clients were present to view her efforts. She had just placed the tools for her second post mortem beside a body when Sherlock and D.I. Lestrade came into the morgue.

"Hello Molly, You look very nice today ," Lestrade complimented.

Molly beamed. "Thank you."

Sherlock glanced at the hopeful pathologist then turned dismissively. "We need to see the body of the decapitated man," he announced.

Molly's smile faded as she lead the men over to the locker that held the body in question. She was most disappointed. Sherlock had not noticed. He probably hadn't even looked at her lips. She opened the door and pulled out the tray holding the body. Looking down at the cadaver, she felt sympathy. Poor man, At least he didn't have to worry about how his lips looked. He didn't have any. Molly sighed and frantically tried to think of something witty to say to catch the detective's attention. Before she could open her mouth, Sherlock reached into his pocket and pulled out a crisp white handkerchief. He held it out to Molly.

"Your lipstick is all smeared, Molly. You might want to take care of that." Molly, horrified that she had messed up her makeup before he had a chance to see how nice her new look was, gave a distressed squeak, grabbed the handkerchief and raced out of the room.

In the staff loo, Molly stared at her reflection. Her makeup was not smeared. There was nothing wrong. Her lips looked fine. She heaved a heavy sigh. Laying Sherlock's handkerchief aside to return to him unused, she picked up some paper tissues and scrubbed her face. By the time she had removed the makeup and returned to the morgue, the men were gone.

**Two - Over the Counter Promises**

Molly pooched her mouth out and frowned into the mirror. Nothing.

She turned her head sideways and peered from the corner of her eyes at her reflection. Nope.

She twisted and tried looking at the other side; de nada, kaput, absolutely no visible change!

She frowned and stared down at the expensive cosmetic. The advert on the outside of the container promised, _"Richer, fuller lips in only seven days! Now you too can have the luscious lips that Hollywood stars are famous for."_ In smaller print underneath were cautionary words. "_Results may vary_."

Molly growled in disgust, her results had not even fallen into the "may vary" category. Her lips had not changed at all! She had given the darn thing a fortnight and still had nothing to show for her time and effort. Molly picked up the vial of lip plumper and pitched it forcefully into the bin. So much for _Luxury Lips_! It was a shame there wasn't a money back guarantee.

**Three -The Toothbrush Approach**

Molly was somewhat skeptical about the success of this technique, but she was desperate and willing to give it a try. Surely something so prevalently posted on the internet should give successful results, especially when there was nothing for the poster to gain monetarily.

_"Your lips look fuller when you use __petroleum jelly,__ then brush lightly with a __tooth brush,__ because they are actually getting bigger. This is because brushing causes blood to rush to them"._

Okay, that did make sense. Molly stared into the mirror over her washroom sink and began brushing. At first, it felt a little odd, but not unpleasant. Two minutes later, she wiped the excess lubricant from her lips and stared into the mirror. Her lips were definitely redder and she was almost sure they were plumper. Wow! Who knew success could be so simple? She still didn't have bee-stung lips, but they looked fuller, and felt very smooth and soft. The question was, how long would they stay this way?

Ten minutes later, Molly sighed in disappointment. Although her lips were still smooth and supple feeling, they no longer looked any fuller than before the brushing. She could just see herself walking about, toothbrush in her lab pocket, carefully watching the clock.

"Excuse me," she would say drawing her hands out of the latest corpse, "it's time to stop and brush my lips!"

She needed a better solution. As least this one worked temporarily. Perhaps if she limited her regimen to breaks and lunchtime it would be enough.

Molly's chance came a week later. Sherlock had been working at the lab microscope for about fifteen minutes when she slipped away to her office and quickly brushed her lips. She didn't have much time and she was half afraid that Sherlock would find her at her unusual exercise. Finishing as quickly as possible, she wiped her mouth and hurried back to the lab. He didn't look up when she approached with the readouts to the tests she had preformed yesterday. He simply held out his hand as she offered them to him. She gave an inward sigh and turned to leave the lab. So much for attracting his notice.

"Your mouth is swollen, Molly."

Molly stopped dead in her tracks. Perhaps her efforts were about to be rewarded. She halfway turned to face him, smile forming on her very tender lips. Before she could say anything in way of explanation, Sherlock tilted his head a little and remarked:

"It looks like you may be getting a cold sore. Camphor and a little petroleum gel should make it better in no time."

He went back to working with the microscope and ignored Molly as she squeaked, "Okay," and scurried out of the lab.

**Four - Essential Oils**

(A_) Oil of Cinnamon_

So, she had been a little too zealous with the toothbrush. Molly admitted to herself that her lips did feel better now she had limited the scrubbing to just once in the morning. The problem was, her lips were back to their thin look. It was time to try something new.

After searching the internet into the wee hours of the night, Molly finally decided on trying essence of cinnamon oil. The website guaranteed long lasting results. Molly felt very hopeful. She decided to pick some up after work the next day.

The oil of cinnamon burned and tingled a bit. Molly peered into her mirror. Yes! Her lips were definitely redder and larger! She couldn't wait to see if Sherlock noticed. She knew he would, he noticed everything.

Molly was thrilled to see Sherlock and John buzz through the doors into the morgue the next day..

"Hello Molly. Do you have the body of a Georgina Ketterling?" Sherlock looked about the morgue as if he expected to find Ms. Kettering stacked in a corner somewhere.

"H-hi, Sherlock," Molly stuttered and twitched slightly. "Yes, her body came in early this morning. She's in locker three."

Molly hurried over to the assigned refrigerated drawer and pulled out the body for Sherlock to inspect. She glanced up at him hopefully, but he gave no indication he noticed her presence. He instantly zeroed in on the cadaver, eyes studiously studying the feet. He held out his hand imperiously in Molly's direction.

"Gloves"

Molly sighed a small disappointed sigh and handed him the requested gloves. He didn't even so much as glance at her.

"Look there John!" Sherlock crowed as he pulled back the third toe with a gloved hand. "Do you see the callus?"

John Watson peered closer and grinned up at the detective.

"So she was a member of the cult after all! But where is her toe ring?"

"I suspect Molly will find it in her stomach when she performs the post mortem ," Sherlock answered.

Suddenly, the detective sniffed suspiciously over the body. Shaking his head, he stood up, his nose scrunched as if smelling a particularly foul odor. He eyed Molly and moved over, invaded her personal space and sniffed loudly. Molly gasped in surprise and jumped back.

"Wh-wh-what are you doing?" Molly stammered and let out a nervous giggle.

"Cinnamon," Sherlock announced with a frown. "Why do you smell like cinnamon Molly?"

"I, er, it's a new scent I'm trying out," Molly fibbed. She looked up at Sherlock's wrinkled nose. "Don't you like it?"

"I have always detested the smell of cinnamon. Reminds me of holiday biscuits, nasty things! Come, John. We need to talk with Lestrade." Sherlock Holmes whirled about and dashed out the doors of the morgue, John smiling an apology over his shoulder to Molly as he trailed behind.

Molly sighed. So much for cinnamon.

(B). _Essence of Cayenne Pepper_

Back at the Homeopathic Medicine Shoppe, Molly frowned at her remaining choices. Peppermint, spearmint and wintergreen essential oils. All way too smelly, she decided. She didn't want a disastrous repeat of the cinnamon episode. What she needed was something a little less pungent. Her eyes landed on the vial of oil of cayenne pepper. Just what she needed!

Using a cotton swab, Molly painted her lips with the pepper oil. It burned like hell. A few minutes later she scrubbed it away, but by that time her eyes were beginning to water and blotchy lumps had formed around her mouth. Her lips looked like a bloated fish! Fortunately, the itchy hives were her only symptom. She took a couple of diphenhydramine tablets and thanked her lucky stars she had the next two days off work.

**Five - Mechanical Stimulation**

Molly relaxed in her bath. Scented candles burned, bubbles bubbled, and she had her favorite beauty magazine to peruse as she soaked. Life was good. This month's issue had caught her eye particularly because it gave a review of available devices designed to suction lips into a fuller poutier look.

Who knew there were actually machines to vacuum lips? Supposedly, the suction forced blood to flow to the lips and allow them to plump. There were a variety of models to choose from. Molly stared at the glossy pictures. Most of them looked like some kind of kinky sex toy for men. She couldn't believe a small plastic tube with a squeeze ball attached could cost so much. The deluxe models were hundreds of pounds and even the cheapest could take a chunk out of a paycheck. Really, there wasn't all that much to them she decided. Definitely not worth the price demanded. All that was needed was something to produce a little suction. Her eyes fell on a small sink plunger that she had purchased recently but had not yet used. Hmm. Without thinking further, she stretched her arm out of the tub and grabbed it. She quickly dunked the plunger under the water then fitted it over her mouth. The small orange rubber stopper fit perfectly under her nose and covered her lips and the top of her chin. She forced the wooden handle down toward her face. She could feel the suction working on her lips as she pulled up. She gently worked the wooden handle up and down a couple of times and decided to stop. No need to overdo it. Her eyes widened slightly as she realized the thing was truly stuck to her face. The harder she pulled the tighter the pressure on her mouth! Oh dear! It was a good thing she hadn't covered her nose as well as her mouth, otherwise she would suffocate. She gently wedged a finger under the bowl shape and broke the seal. Goodness, her face felt hot! She rubbed her lips. Yes, they were a little sore and she could tell they were swollen.

Molly finished her bath and ten minutes later climbed out and toweled dry. Her face felt rather tender. She turned and looked in the mirror.

"Oh my goodness!" she screamed in horror. There reflected in the mirror was a truly horrible sight. Her lips were indeed poofy, the bottom more than the top. Half of it was bruised a deep purple that would rival Sherlock's favorite shirt in color! She looked like someone had punched her in the mouth. Worst of all was the red and purple rash that formed a perfect three inch circle under her nose and down her chin.

"My god!" she wailed, "I've given myself a hickey!"

**Six - Exercises**

Molly's latest adventure in lip renovation came in the form of physical lip exercises.

_(A) __Whistling_

_Molly read that people who play musical wind instruments have bigger lips because they use their lip muscles a lot. She had no desire to take trumpet or flute lessons, but the website assured her that whistling loudly for five minutes each day would build up muscles and achieve plumper lips._

Unfortunately, Molly couldn't whistle. The most she could do was a soft breathy up and down wavering tone. This did not deter her however. Soon her low whistling could constantly be heard as she worked about the lab. She tried to remember to be quiet when Sherlock was about, but she sometimes forgot.

"Molly, what on earth is that dreadful noise you are making?" Sherlock demanded one day as he prepared slides for the microscope.

"Uh, I was whistling," Molly said, a little embarrassed at being caught.

"Perhaps you should try another activity. Whistling doesn't seem to be your strong suit."

Molly didn't answer, she just made sure she was very, very quiet.

"What was the song you were whistling?" Sherlock suddenly asked. "You always whistle the same tune."

Molly's face flushed.

"Oh, n-nothing important," she stammered. "Just something by Nirvana that has a catchy tune. It gets stuck in my head sometimes." She knew she was safe revealing that much about the tune. Nirvana was not Sherlock's type of music.

(B) _Mouth Calisthenics_

In addition to whistling, Molly faithfully followed the regimen of mouth exercises the online article dictated. Several times a day she stretched her mouth as wide as it would go. Next she pouted her lips and twisted them to the left, then to the right. Last she pursed them outward as far as she could in a Marylyn Monroe imitation. Then she would start all over.

One day, soon after Sherlock's comments about her whistling, Molly sat in her office staring into a small round compact, practicing her lip exercises. She stared intently into the tiny mirror as she started her third round. From somewhere behind her, she hear a familiar low rumble.

"It has come to my attention, Molly Hooper, that you have be conducting experiments on yourself in order to increase the size and shape of your lips. Am I wrong?"

Molly froze. Oh god, he had figured out what she was doing. What was she supposed to say? Her face flushed beet red. If the floor had suddenly opened up a hole that lead straight into a volcano, she would have gladly jumped in. Lips first!

Sherlock was casually leaning against the door frame to her office. His hair was a curly mop of perfection. He was wearing his perfect purple shirt under his perfect black suit coat, and he had a perfectly wicked gleam in his eyes. Damn the man. Molly felt at an extreme disadvantage. Why did this have to happen now? Why did it have to happen at all? In her daydreams she had always been in a lovely dress, preferably on a dance floor, Sherlock's arms about her waist as they swayed to slow music. He would whisper sexily into her ear that her lovely lips were driving him insane.

What she got in reality were harsh office lighting and a nosey detective.

"How long have you been there?" Molly squeaked.

Sherlock grinned. "Long enough," he answered. "Why are you doing this Molly?"

Molly stared at the tall detective and searched vainly for an acceptable lie. Nothing came to mind.

"I wasn't sure what you were doing until the cinnamon incident," he said. "It started me thinking, and I believe there were other attempts before that one. Am I mistaken?"

Molly silently shook her head.

"Why?" he asked quizzically.

"You said my mouth was too small!" she blurted out in exasperation. Damn the man.

Sherlock stared at her with a look of confusion. "I did?"

"Yes ," Molly answered emphatically.

"Oh," Sherlock frowned for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. "I must have deleted it."

Molly's eyes widened. He had deleted it? She watched nervously as he crossed the open space between them and stood in front of her. He lifted a hand and cupped her chin and stared at her mouth. His thumb moved across her bottom lip.

"Your lips are not too small you know," he said softly. "However, I have conducted some research of my own, and have a few suggestions. Perhaps you will allow me to aid you in this fascinating project?"

"You want to help me make my lips bigger?" Molly asked faintly. He was so close she could feel his breath on her face. She thought she just might die any second.

"Mmm," his voice thrummed in agreement. "Your exercises are a good idea, but there is one area you have neglected. You need to apply some oral stimulation. I can help you with that."

"Y-y-you can?" Molly stammered.

"Definitely," he murmured and lowered his head to press his lips to hers.

They came up for air eventually. Sherlock inspected Molly's mouth with a huge grin on his face.

"I think we have discovered a successful procedure, Dr. Hooper." If possible Molly's face blushed an even deeper shade of red. Sherlock smiled mischievously and said: "I think we should call this the Nirvana Procedure."

"I didn't think you would recognize the song ," Molly whispered.

"I didn't, but I do know how to use the internet. I especially appreciated the refrain," he said.

"Oh."

"Dr. Hooper, I think our project needs a second application. What do you think?"

"Oh yes! Mr. Holmes. I believe you are correct!" Molly said solemnly, but with a sparkle in her eyes.

As the two heads blended together. You could almost hear Nirvana sing:

Kiss kiss. Molly's Lips  
Kiss kiss, Molly's Lips  
Kiss kiss, Molly's Lips.

The End

A/N Disclaimer: Do not try this at home! The author of this story does not endorse nor promote any of the above procedures for the enlargement of lips. Some actions in the story were exaggerated for the purpose of humor and the author in no way wishes to encourage her readers to consider following any of the above procedures factually.

Except one. If Sherlock ever approaches and wants to engage you in the _Nirvana Approach_, I say "GO FOR IT!"

An additional word of caution: On a dare, my twelve year old son did put a sink plunger to his face, giving himself a hickey! The results were quite vivid and lasted for several days! And, I might add, it was quite humiliating for him and humorous for everyone else. He is still called "_Plunger Boy"_ on occasion to this day .I fear he may never live it down! LOL!

I hope you enjoyed the story!

With love, Patamalah


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